


Tomorrow's War

by xeewrites



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Lucius, Angst, Azkaban, Capslock Harry, Dark, Drarry, Drugs, Dumbledore's Army, Hogwarts, Leaky Cauldron, M/M, Malfoy Manor, Minimal OCs, Nightmares, Post-War, Rating May Change, Romance, Sexual Themes, Slash, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Trials, Violence, Wizarding Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-11 01:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8947150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xeewrites/pseuds/xeewrites
Summary: The war is over, but the Ministry is struggling to reform. Conflicting testimonies push back Death Eater trials, and suspicion falls on Kingsley's management as temporary Minister.  Harry Potter, desperate for some peace, tries to avoid political involvement. But after a clumsy kidnapping involving Draco Malfoy, a courtyard, and a curse, Harry finds his new purpose. Armed with the most unusual allies and, perhaps, the tiniest bit of Dark Magic, he decides to tackle the Ministry's corruption.





	1. Prologue

Hundreds of people were gathered around the great, vast lake. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry loomed behind them in the growing darkness, and was as quiet and still as the crowd. The silence was respectful. More than fifty candles floated on the lake's surface, each engraved with a name, deep into the white wax. The faces of the deceased could be seen in the flickering flames, their smiles and sightless eyes oblivious to the mourners on the bank, their reflections distorted in the water.

Harry Potter watched the scene with mixed feelings. The candlelight and the setting sun made the lake glow. He caught Lupin's eyes staring back at him from a flame nearby. He turned away in time to watch as Professor McGonagall placed the last candle on the water.

The silence broke – not immediately, but gradually. Several people sniffed, others cried. Voices whispered and people began to shuffle about. Eventually the atmosphere changed, and students began to point out faces they recognized to their friends and family. Anecdotes were shared. More tears were shed.

To Harry's left, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger stood hand in hand.

"It's terrible," Hermione whispered. Her voice was shaky, but the tears had begun to dry on her face. Ron stroked her hair absently, and catching Harry's eye, smiled slightly, sadly. Harry returned it reluctantly.

"Harry?" Ginny appeared between them. Her eyes were dry; she was as strong as always. "I thought it was you. It's hard to tell though... everyone's a silhouette against the lake."

Harry nodded, and made to reach for her hand, but changed his mind.

"You know, they even lit candles for the Death Eaters," she said, pointing at an unnamed candle. "But there were a lot of bodies that couldn't be identified."

"Yeah," said Harry.

"We're leaving tomorrow morning," Ginny said quietly. "Back to the burrow. Mum says you're welcome to come."

"I don't want to intrude," said Harry, thinking of Fred. The Weasleys would want time to organize the funeral.

"Don't be silly. You're pretty much part of the family," said Ginny gently. "Besides, where else will you go."

"Yeah, you're right, thanks Ginny."

Ginny wondered back towards her parents, and Harry felt an inexplicable pang of jealousy as he watched them together. He turned away, chiding himself. Ginny was right; the Weasleys were family. And yet, he felt awfully, horribly alone.

Hogwarts was being rebuilt; everyone had stayed behind to work, although Harry had felt more of a hindrance than a help. He was sure it would open again, but he couldn't imagine it. The idea of normality - after losing so many people - struck Harry with a sense of guilt and despair he couldn't quite explain.

He sat where he stood, on the grassy hill overlooking the lake, at the bank full of mourners and teachers, and a part of him hoped he might never see Hogwarts again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will the Malfoys go to trial? Will our heroes return to school? How will Kingsley handle his position as temporary minister, and will he be elected to stay? How will the Wizarding World treat Malfoy, ex-Death Eater? I have a lot of questions I want to tackle with this fic.
> 
> Please comment! I'm fixing up chapters at the moment and can handle your honest opinions, I promise. Any concrit is good! And I won't say no to some encouragement either, haha. Kudos and subs are nice, but comments make me feel like real people are reading.
> 
> This is an angsty, fluffy, slashy adventure romance, with 15 chapters already written (and another 10 planned). Thanks for reading!


	2. Narcissa's Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amongst his fanmail, Harry recieves an interesting letter from Narcissa Malfoy.

Morning broke through the open curtains of Ron's bedroom, stirring Harry as he lay on a stretcher on the floor. He snoozed for a while, but he couldn't fall back asleep. He blinked and sat up with a groan, running a hand through his messy hair and reaching for his glasses with a yawn. He could hear voices outside, Ginny's above the rest.

Ron was sleeping, snoring slightly with his mouth open. Harry tiptoed as he put on his jeans; they'd both had troubled sleep recently.

Outside the window he could see George, Ginny and Percy tossing a Quaffle between them - George flying half-heartedly, and Ginny doing somersaults around Percy. Ginny bounced the quaffle off of Percy's back, laughing as she zoomed past to make a goal.

Harry laughed with her as the broom zipped out of Percy's grasp and dropped him on the grass. He hadn't seen Percy fly before. He glanced over at the old broomstick Ron had given him, but he wasn't sure he was ready to fly with Ginny again.

She had asked for space after the funeral, and now their friendship felt awkward.

He sighed and made up his mind. He couldn't avoid her forever. He picked up the broomstick and hurried out to the garden, smiling as kicked off into the air, and raced to join the three Weasleys.

"You should have seen Harry; he was incredible!" said Ginny as she strode into the living room two hours later, her face flushed and knees dirty. "I've never seen anyone make a goal from so far away before!"

Harry couldn't help grinning as he trailed in after her. "That save you made was amazing... I don't know how you escaped the bludger."

"I wouldn't have made it if you hadn't warned me though," said Ginny.

"What about me?" Ron mumbled. He had joined the game half way through as keeper and sometimes beater.

Harry and Ginny looked at him.

"Oh yeah. You did great too, Ron," said Harry.

"Don't talk rubbish, he was terrible!" Ginny snorted. "You kept missing the Quaffle because you were too worried about looking cool," she added, making a face. Hermione, of course, had watched the game from the sidelines. 

"The teams weren't fair! You should have had Percy, and we could have had Harry..."

The two continued their argument up until lunch, and even then, they glared at each other over the dining table.

Harry, however, felt elated. At the end of the game, when Harry scored the final goal, Ginny had all but crashed into him to give him an enthusiastic airborne hug.

He wondered if things could go back to how they used to be.  

"Harry dear, I've left today's mail in Ron's bedroom." Mrs Weasley smiled as she served him some ham.

Harry groaned inwardly at the thought of the dreaded fan mail, which had been pouring in from witches and wizards all over the world.

"It's only polite to write back," Mrs Weasley had said. Harry had spent a good chunk of his free time shut up in Ron's bedroom writing.

"You'd think they'd have lost interest by now," Ron muttered. 

"Oh, it'll be a long time before they do. After all, people are still talking about Dumbledore and Grindlewald," said Ginny, serving herself potatoes. "But I'm sure Harry's fan girl community will die down soon enough."

Harry felt his heart leap at the potential for jealousy, but Ginny just passed him the salad, indifferent. 

An hour later Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny sat together up in Ron's room, laughing over a particularly obsessive letter from a 'single mother of two.'

"'...If only I was 20 years younger...'" Ginny quoted, bursting into a fit of giggles. "Oh, this is going to be fun." And she began scribbling a reply with a nasty grin on her face.

Ron snorted. "Here's another marriage proposal: 19 years old. Great cook, daughter of an Obliviator" He took out another piece of parchment from the envelope. "She's included a photo, and hey, she's not half bad!" said Ron, surprised. He chucked the photo and letter at Harry, as Hermione whacked him on the knee with her quill.

Harry glanced up at Ginny, who was still writing a reply for the 'single mother'.

"She's cute," he said pointedly. "It's a shame she's moving to France."

The scratching of Ginny's quill paused momentarily, but then without raising her head, she continued writing. A moment later, she stopped again, and Harry glanced up at her quickly.

"Harry, could you pass the ink on the shelf?" she asked, motioning to her empty bottle.

"Thanks," she said as Harry handed it to her. Disappointment settled in his stomach like a rock.

Another hour passed, and there were still at least two dozen letters to write. Ginny stood up and stretched.

"Well I'm off to the village before it gets dark."

"It's not getting dark for hours!" exclaimed Ron.

"It's nearly an hours walk from here. Not that you'd know. You're too lazy to walk anywhere," said Ginny, making a face on her way to the door.

"What's there anyway?" Ron yelled after her, but she was already gone.

"Ever since we got back she's been vanishing off to that stupid village, and she never tells anyone why," Ron muttered bitterly.

"No Ron, she just doesn't tell you why," said Hermione with a knowing smile.

"What do you know?" Ron demanded eagerly.

"It's a secret," said Hermione, and Harry instantly felt a need to know what that secret was, but it was too late to grab his cloak and hurry after her. Besides, he thought, casting a gloomy look towards the stack of letters, I can't expect Ron and Hermione to write replies to all these for me.

He took another letter from the pile, and dipping his quill in the ink, began to write.

Over the following week, Harry noticed with relief the amount of fan mail had begun to slowly decrease. He was still reluctant to answer them though, and even Ron was bored of laughing at them. However, this particular morning a letter caught his eye. He thought he recognized the handwriting, but he couldn't place it. He took it from the stack and opened it.

_Dear Mr. Potter_

_I am writing to thank you. Not only did you defeat the Dark Lord, who was terrorizing the lives of my family, but you saved the life of my son. For this I will be forever grateful._

_I would like for you to join us for dinner one evening in our manor. The address in enclosed. I'd also like to offer you a room for as long as you require it. Draco tells us you lived with some dreadful muggles while at Hogwarts, and that you may not wish to return to them. We would be honoured to have you come and stay with us._

_Please consider it,_

_Narcissa Malfoy._

Harry gaped at the parchment in his hands. He hadn't given the Malfoys much thought at all; they had helped with the clean up efforts after the battle, and had stayed for the memorial, but they hadn't spoken to anyone. Harry shook his head and slipped the note into his pocket.

"She's got to be kidding!" exclaimed Ron when Harry showed him the letter later that morning. "Who in their right mind would want to stay with them? And who's this 'we'? I don't think Malfoy would be thrilled at the idea of having Harry Potter come and live with him."

"They must be up to something," Harry considered out loud.

"Maybe you should have left Malfoy to the fire," said Ron with a snigger.

"Ron!" Hermione had just walked in and shot Ron an angry glare, before returning to Harry with a frown. "What's Malfoy done now?"

"Nothing," said Harry truthfully. He handed her the letter, and watched as she read it.

"Oh... well that's nice of her," Hermione said slowly, but uncertainly. "And sort of weird."

"Nice!" Ron looked at her incredulously. "She's a Death Eater! It's a trap."

"I don't think so," said Harry slowly.

"Oh come off it, Harry."

"It is possible they want revenge. After all..." Hermione trailed off. "You have upset their lifestyle quite a bit."

Harry remained silent.

"Don't tell me you're actually considering going?" Ron stared at him.

"Course not," said Harry quickly, but he tucked the address into the pocket of his jeans anyway.

That afternoon, Ginny announced she would be heading off to the village again. It was earlier than usual - not even three. No one but Hermione seemed to know why, and no one else seemed as interested as Harry. Hermione had made it clear she wasn't going to tell him.

Harry waited until Ron was busy helping George de-gnome the garden, before telling Mrs. Weasley he was going to take a quick flight. He wanted some fresh air, he told her.

"Wear your cloak," Mrs Weasley warned. "There's muggles around."

Ginny had been gone for nearly two hours, so Harry apparated under the cloak rather than flew.

The village was small, with only one street of shops and cafés and a little shabby hotel around the town square. There was also a run-down movie theatre and a police station. It wasn't a busy place, Harry noticed as he emerged from an alley way, cloak tucked under his shoulder, which was a relief. Apparating in the middle of the day was risky business.

Harry started by searching the main street, peering into cafes and sweet shops. He became incresingly frustrated. A red-headed muggle woman smiled at him as she left the post office with her daughter in hand, and Harry realised he'd been loitering.

"Are you looking for someone?" she asked kindly. Her daughter stared at his wand in his pocket.

"Just a friend," he said. She's wished him luck, and Harry watched as her read ponytail bobbed down the street. When had he stopped seeing muggles as people? He knew he should probably be under the cloak, but it felt good to be around people who didn't see him as a celebrity.

Half an hour later, Harry sat outside an ice cream parlour with a mint ice cream, feeling defeated. He couldn't find Ginny, and he had no idea where to look. And what if he did? What would he say?

Just as he got up to throw away his cone and head back, Ginny rounded the corner of the street, hand-in-hand with a young man around Harry's age. For a moment Harry just stood there, mouth open, his worst fears confirmed.

"You've really never seen it before?" the man said. "It's really old, but it's a classic."

"I told you, we don't have a tv," said Ginny, laughing.

Her companion nudged her with his shoulder. "I have a tv," he said, wiggling his eyebrows. He was tall, probably near to Ron in height, with short, blond hair, a stubbled jawline and an accent Harry couldn't place.

Harry hated him.

"What are you doing tomorrow? You come come over..."

"If you buy me an icecream, I'll consider it," Ginny teased.

Jealousy writhed deep inside Harry, jealousy and - even though he couldn't place it at first - fear and a sense of loss. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He was going to remain calm.

"Harry?"

Harry opened his eyes. Ginny had stopped walking and was staring at him, wide-eyed.

"Hello, Ginny."

"But... what are you doing here?"

"I thought you might have liked some company," Harry lied, "but I guess I was wrong." There was a lot more venom in his voice than he had intended, but he didn't care. He glared at her. How could she do this? After all he'd been through.

Ginny's eyes narrowed and her lips thinned. She let go of - whoever he was -  and took a step towards Harry.

"You're spying on me," she said crossly. When he didn't reply, she turned to walk away, and Harry jumped forward and grabbed her wrist.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked weakly.

"Let go of me, Harry!"

"Why didn't you? Don't you think I deserved to know?"

Ginny struggled against his grip.

"Didn't you think for a second how much something like this might hurt me?" Harry's voice was small and pleading.

Ginny stopped struggling.

"Let go of me Harry," she said slowly.

"Ginny, please-" said Harry.

"She said let go!"

There was a blur of movement as a fist collided with the side of Harry's head. Strong hands pushed him back for extra measure, and Ginny ripped her arm away as Harry fell back.

"Robin,  don't!" he heard Ginny shout. His head was spinning from the impact, and as he tried to steady himself he nearly toppled over a parlour chair. He recovered quickly and drew his wand, pointing it directly at Robin. He heard Ginny shout again, but ignored it. Muggles all down the street were staring.

Robin stared at him blankly for a moment or two, before raising an eyebrow.

"Are you crazy?" he laughed. "What's with the stick?" He looked highly amused, and Harry felt himself flush.

He was a Muggle! Harry swore inwardly. How could he have been so stupid!? He didn't lower his wand.

"Harry!" Ginny squeaked. "Please, he's a-"

"Shut up, Ginny," Harry snarled.

"Wow, Ginny, this is your old boyfriend, right? I can see why you left him." Robin shook his head and held out a hand to Ginny. "Let's go get somewhere else."

But Ginny didn't move.

"Harry..."

"Don't worry about me Ginny," Harry said coolly, letting his arm fall to his side. "Your boyfriend's waiting." Harry shoved his wand back into his pocket, and turned and walked away as Ginny called out for him.

His eyes stung as he disapparated, unknowing that it would months before he ever saw Ginny again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All feedback is appreciated!


	3. Draco

Draco Malfoy was stretched out on his bed, staring at the miserably high, blank ceiling. He could hear the longcase clock against the wall; the tick was comforting. If he paid careful attention to it, he could drown out the disagreeable thoughts.

A soft knocking came from the other side of his large, ornate door, making the snake on the brass handle squirm and hiss. Draco dragged himself up with a heavy sigh - had he missed lunch again? He glanced at the time. He hadn't.

"Come in, mother," he drawled, leaning back against the bed board. His father never knocked.

Narcissa was dressed to go out. Her smile was tight and forced as she eyed Draco's oxfords on the bedspread.

"Draco, why lock yourself up on a day like this? Go outside, take your broomstick or-"

"Or what?" said Draco with a sharp laugh. "There's nothing to do here."

"What's wrong, love?"

"Nothing."

Narcissa's eyes pinched in the middle as she searched Draco's face. Draco squirmed beneath them. He pulled a knee up to his chest and ran a nail down the fabric, focusing on the quiet sound.

"You've been hiding for weeks," said Narcissa quietly. "You hardly ever come out, and you barely touch your food at dinner. You do know it's better for us now? The Dark Lord, he-"

"You don't need to remind me," Draco muttered. "You know I'm glad he's gone."

"Then what's wrong?" Narcissa came to sit on his bed next to him. She sounded exasperated. "I don't like seeing you like this."

"You know I don't want to tell you."

"I know," said Narcissa carefully. She made as though to rest her hand on his knee, but clasped her fingers in her lap instead. "But talking takes courage. Talk to me, Draco."

"I'm not a Gryffindor _,_ mother."

"And I am so very proud," Narcissa replied sadly.

Draco looked away and out of the window, where a small blackbird sat perched on the sill. The bird watched him, for a moment or two, before taking flight and vanishing from view. The ticking sounded louder now, but it was no longer comforting. Draco wished he could disappear.

"Look at me, Draco!" said Narcissa shortly. "If you won't talk about it for your own sake, then please, tell me for mine! I can't sleep at night when I know you're unhappy."

"It's father," Draco said suddenly, frustrated. He wanted to bury his face in his knees. How could she not see? "Of course it's father. You know he doesn't talk to me anymore. Everything he wanted me to be - it's impossible now."

"Lucius is just busy with the Ministry. We'll be a family again soon."

"I don't know who I am without him," said Draco bitterly, embarrassed. "What am I supposed to do?"

"What about at school? You had months away from Lucius to be yourself."

"Even there I am - I mean, I was - I _became_ him."

"The more you say that, the more you'll convince yourself." Narcissa took his hand and squeezed it a little too tightly. "I'm worried about your father too. We need to be strong for him. They may have already decided to send him back to Azkaban."

"But the trial?"

"It was postponed again. Draco, don't be alarmed, but I should tell you, I've invited Harry Potter to stay with us."

Draco straightened up and pulled his hand away. "You've what?"

"We need allies," stressed Narcissa, "now more than ever. Oh, please don't look at me like that! You're in his debt, and he's in mine. He's a compassionate boy; we can use that. Imagine, he could have us acquitted."

Draco shook his head dumbly. She had to be joking?

"It's a pipe dream, mother. He hates us. Of course he hates us."

"He doesn't," said Narccissa firmly. "If he came to dinner, enjoyed his stay -"

"He would definitely not _'enjoy his stay_.'

"You'll make him enjoy it."

" _Why?_ " Draco stressed.

Narcissa stood up and ran her long fingers through her hair. "He needs to understand our plight first hand. He needs to see us as - as people who have made mistakes. If anyone has influence over the ministry, it's him."

Draco thought she sounded half mad. He understood her desperation, he really did. But surely she knew how ridiculous she sounded?

"He'll never come," he said. "I wish it were that easy, but..."

"You think so?" said Narcissa somewhat distantly. "I wish you two had gotten along better. Oh well, it can't be helped I suppose."

"No, it can't," said Draco firmly.

There was a pause.

"But if you do ever see him, you _will_ try, won't you?"

Draco looked at his hopeless mother, with her sad wide eyes and broken smile. He wanted to fix everything for her, to find a time turner and steal her away before the war. They could have gone anywhere. Now, all he could do was sigh and lie.

"Of course, mother. I'll try."

  
  
*

 

Lucius hadn't been at dinner that evening. He sat now in the drawing room with a bottle of gin, hunched over in front of the fireplace. His hair was streaked with silver, and the lines on his face more pronounced than ever. He stared down his long nose at the carpet, muttering under his breath. Suddenly, angrily, he slammed his fist on the armrest, sending sparks across the room.

Draco jumped from where he stood in the shadow of the doorway. He moved to close the door, but it was too late.

"Get out," Lucius growled.

"Father-"

"Get out!" Wild eyed, Lucius threw his diamond glass across the room.

Draco heard it shatter as he fled. He didn't stop until he reached his room. He fell back against the door, shutting it, a gutteral noise escaping his clenched teeth. The clock ticked loudly, painfully in the background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would anyone be interested in beta swapping some chapters?


	4. A Vague Plan

Harry stumbled as the path to The Burrow swam into view. His stomach churned slightly, either from the apparation or his anger, or both. His knees buckled and he fell to the ground.

He wasn't going to cry. He didn't need her, he told himself forcibly.

He slammed his fist down, making a shallow indent in the dry earth. He pictured himself hexing the muggle, melting his legs into the concrete. It didn't really do much to improve his anger.

"Diffindo!" Harry aggresively flailed his wand as he got up; a small tree ripped in two and hit the ground with a loud THUD. "Incendio!" he shouted, aiming his wand at anything he could, and channelling his anger into the countryside. "Diffindo! CONFRINGO!"

Everything was wrong and unfair. In minutes he was exhausted, collapsing into one of the few patches of grass that weren't smoking or upturned. As his heartbeat steadied and his temper flooded out of him, he serveyed the countryside with some regret. He would clean it up before he made his way back to The Burrow.

"Harry! We've been worried sick!" Hermione rushed as soon as Harry opened the door an hour or so later. "Have you seen Ginny? She's not back either, and she's always back before dark!" She peeked around Harry as though Ginny might be hiding behind him.

"No," Harry lied, not meeting her eye. "I'm going to bed." He didn't want to snap at Hermione, but was reminded of how angry he was with her as well. She had known all along about Ginny's muggle. She could have told him. She should have told him. They were best friends, after all!

"Oh," said Hermione with a dawning expression. "Oh, Harry, you found out, didn't you?" Her voice was quiet and meek.

Harry nearly laughed.

"Harry, she really wanted to tell you!"

"Why didn't she then?"

"She didn't want to hurt you!"

"If she didn't want to hurt me," spat Harry, "she wouldn't have done it in the first place."

"Harry, please," Hermione pleaded, "look at it from Ginny's point of view. You've been practically ignoring her, ever since..." she trailed off, but Harry knew what she meant. Ever since the war.

"She hasn't exactly been paying me much attention either," Harry countered.

"Of course she was going to give you some space! We've all been trying to give you space, Harry! You've been through so much..."

"Maybe I needed her comforting after all I've been through - rather than rushing off with the first guy who'd take her."

"But, Harry," Hermione sounded weaker with every word, "it's not a fling. It's been months now."

"What?" Harry said, feeling empty. Hermione seemed to shrink slightly. "You knew? All that time - while we were in the forest? Looking for Horcruxes?!"

"I didn't know then!" Hermione squeaked. "How could I possibly - I only found out when we-"

But Harry wasn't listening, he pushed past her and stormed out into the hallway.

"Harry!"

"Go away!" Harry roared back at her as she tried to follow. He turned away from her and marched up the stairs. When he reached Ron's room he slammed the door shut and sank onto the stretcher.

He didn't want to think. He pulled out his Dreamless Sleep (courtesy of Mr Weasley, to Mrs Weasley's disapproval) and, after a poorly estimated gulp, was asleep within minutes.

The following morning, Harry woke up early with a plan in mind. A very vague plan, but a plan he was determined to follow none-the-less.

As usual, Ron was still snoring, so Harry packed his things quietly. Over the recent weeks, tokens of appreciation had arrived from all over Europe, and were now stacked against the wall of Ron's room. These ranged from gift certificates for the latest Floo home instalments, to a miniature, solid gold statue of him riding the Gringott's dragon.

Embarrassed, he'd tried to give them all away, but the Weasley's wouldn't take it - although the food baskets they had agreed to share.

Harry only took two things from the pile; the Squall60, which was the latest racing broom from Flyte and Barker (it had arrived yesterday, much to Ron's delight), and a weightless, magically pocketed travelling cloak from a company in France.

Harry didn't have much otherwise - not that he would need - and everything fit neatly into his suitcase. The broom needed to be charmed for size, and he tried to charm his large bottle of Dreamless Sleep too, to make it shatterproof. There was no way of testing whether the spell had worked, so he wrapped it in a towel for extra measure.

Harry thought he might be the first one up, but was surprised when he saw Hermione sitting alone at the table with a hot cup of tea. She looked up at him as he entered. Her hair was a nest and her eyes were red.

"Morning, Hermione," he said awkwardly. He cringed as she flinched, but when it appeared Harry wasn't going to start yelling again, she replied.

"Morning, Harry."

Harry sat down opposite her, and for a few minutes they remained in silence, Hermione sipping at her drink.

"Harry, I'm so sorry," she said eventually. "You're right, we should have told you."

"No," said Harry firmly. "Ginny told you in confidence. I can understand why you didn't." After a pause, he added, "I shouldn't have yelled."

Hermione smiled, and Harry smiled back.

"Harry dear, Hermione, you two are up early!" Mrs Weasley had just walked in, surprising them both. She was wearing a floral nightgown and large fluffy brown slippers.

"Good morning, Mrs Weasley!" said Hermione, sounding considerably more cheerful. "Can I help with anything?"

"Breakfast isn't for another hour, I'm afraid, but I can whip you two up some toast if you're hungry?"

"Oh, I'm fine, thanks," said Hermione politely, as Harry also assured her that he could wait an hour. Hermione yawned, and Mrs. Weasley cast her a sympathetic smile.

"You should be asleep, dear. If anyone should be up and offering to help, it's that ungrateful daughter of mine."

Harry raised an eyebrow at Hermione, which Mrs Weasley caught.

"Ginny didn't come home till midnight last night, the nerve of her!" She she sent a piece of toast on a plate skidding along the table between Harry and Hermione, forgetting they weren't hungry. "Never again!"

"I'm sure she just lost track of time," said Hermione weakly. Harry suddenly felt annoyed with her again.

"That's no excuse," Mrs Weasley snapped, flicking her wand to direct more toast to the table. She muttered to herself as she went looking for jam, and Hermione shrunk into a copy of the Daily Prophet.

By breakfast all the Weasleys but Ginny were up, and Harry still hadn't told anyone of his plan to leave. He wasn't entirely sure how he was going to announce it, but he hoped no one would try and convince him to stay.

"Harry, did you hear about Ginny?" Ron said as he sat down. "She was out til morning. Mum had a fit! She thinks Ginny's got a boyfriend in the village!" He laughed loudly, but stopped at Hermione's sharp look.

"What?" he asked, clueless.

Hermione looked at Harry apologetically, but said nothing.

"Anyway," said Ron, ignoring Hermione, "do you want to play Quidditch again after breakfast?"

"I'm not really in the mood," said Harry.

"What about Wizards' Chess?"

"You know I'll lose."

"Exploding Snap?" asked Ron hopefully.

"Sorry, Ron."

"What's up, mate?"

Harry avoided his gaze, and watched George as he picked at his food silently. From the corner of his eye he saw Hermione shake her head at Ron, but Ron pursued.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry lied, forcing a smile. "It's just... I don't think I'll be staying here much longer."

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly that. I can't stay here any longer, Ron."

"Of course you can," said Ron, making a face.

"I need to go out and make something of my life."

"But Harry," Hermione interrupted. "You've already made something of your life. Don't you think you deserve some peace and rest?"

"Yeah!" Ron added.

Harry's smile faded, he hadn't expected them to understand.

"I don't think I'm capable of that," he said bitterly. "Besides, I need some time alone."

"But where will you go?" asked Ron. "Grimmauld Place?"

"What will you do?" Hermione asked at the same time.

"I want to come, too!" Ron added as an afterthought.

"Ron, he said he wants some time alone. That generally means time away from people like you," Hermione snapped.

"Don't take it personally," Harry pleaded. "I'll come back, I promise."

Ron and Hermione shared a look, before turning back to Harry.

"You will write, won't you?" asked Hermione earnestly.

"Of course."

Having told Ron and Hermione, Harry found it easier telling the rest of the present Weasleys. Ginny had stayed in her room all day; Harry knew he wouldn't see her before he left, and Mr Weasley was almost always away on Ministry business. After breakfast, Harry emerged into the dining area with his suitcase.

"When you said you were leaving, I didn't think you meant immediately!" Mrs Weasley fussed when she saw him.

"Sorry, Mrs Weasley."

"Well, at least wait let me pack you a lunch," she said, hurrying back to the kitchen.

"So, this is it then?" Ron held out his hand to Harry.

"I won't be long." Harry assured him, grasping his hand firmly.

"You better not be."

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione suddenly appeared between them, breaking their hand shake, and flinging her arms around Harry before removing herself just as quickly. She sniffed as she stepped back. "It's going to be awfully quiet without you!"

Harry grinned. "I'll send you a howler every week."

With Mrs. Weasley's lunch in hand, Harry stepped out onto the sunny porch and glanced back to take one last look at Hermione and the Weasleys, before turning and marching away, ready for a new adventure.


	5. A Night to Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry learns he's been missing out on a lot while staying at The Burrow. Dumbledore's Army are moving on without him, the Ministry has become corrupt, and Narcissa makes a desperate bid for Harry's help in a very unusual way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's been a long time! If anyone's still reading, thank you~

Over the past fortnight, gossip had spread that 'Harry Potter was staying in Diagon Alley' and the pub had been packed with witches and wizards wanting to see him. Harry had all but locked himself in his room, but even then he'd had witches and wizards from the Ministry banging at his door.  
  
For the most part, Harry avoided them, although he'd agreed to meet with a few. A few days ago he'd opened the door to a man from the Ministry - whose face unusually resembled a greyhound. He had wanted Harry to give a press conference, which would be written and organized by the Ministry.

"That's up to Kingsley," Harry had said firmly as their meeting came to a close. "If he wants me, he can come himself."

"Kingsley is very busy," Greyhound had said as Harry motioned to the door. "Please drop in - or write - if you change your mind."

Harry wasn't really surprised he hadn't seen or heard from the stand-in Minister of Magic yet. He'd avoided reading the paper at The Burrow - Hermione had passed on interesting updates, most likely sparing Harry the war stories. But Harry read it daily now, kicking himself for missing so much.

The Ministry was a bit of a mess. They had people to replace, hundreds of trials to schedule, Death Eaters and associates and suspected criminals to track down. The hierarchy was in shambles, and according to the Prophet, distrust and accusations had spread like wildfire through the building. Aurors were interrogating each other, and some of the interrogations had gotten violent.

Harry knew the Prophet was prone to exaggeration, although he wouldn't have minded a visit from a familiar Ministry employee to fill him in. Even Mr Weasley - on his occasional visits to The Burrow - had been tight lipped.

Leaky Cauldron life wasn't all bad, however. Luna had visited today, filling him in on Dumbledore's Army over tea in his room.

Seamus had been in the papers a few times; he seemed to be enjoying himself. Neville and Hannah had stayed to help at Hogwarts for a few weeks, and had been with their families since.

Most interestingly to Harry, though, Cho, Katie, Lee and Dean had been protesting and petitioning the Ministry, meeting regularly in a flat owned by Cho's parents. Luna had met Katie for lunch last weekend, and learned they were currently protesting the 'unconventional methods' the Ministry were allegedly using to get information out of known Death Eaters.

"I had no idea," Harry admitted.

"They're quite passionate about it," said Luna cheerfully, sitting cross legged on a cushion the floor. "Katie and the others, I mean. I told them we'd give them space in The Quibbler."

"Where do they get their information?" Harry wondered, leaning back against the side of the bed. He hadn't wanted to sit at the table by the window, in case people saw him. And Luna preferred the floor, she said. The Leaky Cauldron furniture was supposed to be riddled with something Harry didn't quite catch.

"She wouldn't say, but said they have a couple of informants in the Ministry."

"Informants?"

"After the memorial, there was a bit of a scandal," said Luna, sipping her tea. "The ministry shut off access to - well, the entire building really. They locked everyone inside, and locked a lot of people out. It was all very hush-hush."

Harry nodded, remembering an article Hermione had shown him. He wondered if he should have taken it more seriously.

"Licklaster fairies," Luna added pointedly. Harry blinked.

"Anyway," she continued, leaning forward and dropping her voice to a whisper, "we never found out what happened, but a few Ministry officials contacted Katie after, wanting to support her. Then Katie contacted some of us and formed her team.

"I was in Romania at the time, but I might join them later."

Harry wondered why Katie hadn't written to him.

"Have you heard from anyone else?" he asked.

"Dennis is moving to America. After the funeral, his mum sort of broke down." Luna looked away. "A few of us went, but we were asked to leave."

Harry knew 'us' meant Dumbledore's Army. Someone had found Collin's camera after the war, and sent - or possibly sold - the photos to the prophet.

"Katie's trying to raise money for a lawyer,” said Luna, “saying the copyright should have gone to his family."

As far as Luna knew, no one had heard from Susan or the Patils.

"Lots of us wanted to be alone, like you,” she said. “I'm sure they're fine."

Justin was staying with Ernie, and hadn't even told his parents about the War; they still thought he was at school. Witch Weekly had tried to do a stint on them dating, but Katie and co had shut it down. Luna wrote to Ernie sometimes.

Marietta's family was under Ministry investigation, but it sounded as though the investigations were going slowly.

Harry had seen Angelina at Fred's funeral, but she had been quiet and distant.

"She's doing okay," said Luna. "She lost a few people... Alicia visits her sometimes."

The conversation moved on to The Quibbler, and Luna left Harry with the latest copy and a kiss on the cheek.

"Keep in touch," she'd said.

Harry was sad to see her go.

Although seeing Luna had helped pull Harry out of his quiet depression, she had also filled him with an unusual, unsettling guilt. The Wizarding World, and Dumbledore's Army, were moving on without him.

Harry was alone now, enjoying a pint in the quiet of the late evening. He'd been approached a couple of times - shaken a few hands - but it was late now and the pub was almost empty. He sat in the armchair below the noticeboard, flipping through the latest prophet.

The old headlines of  _ 'The Boy Who Lived Lives Again'  _ and  _ 'Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World'  _ were mostly gone, replaced with talk of the ministry, Death Eater trials, Hogwarts and a bit of the Daily Prophet's typical gossip.

No one was really sure what was happening with Hogwarts. A lot of parents wanted it closed, with a record number signing up to the Ministry's correspondence education program. But the Ministry had assured the press the school would re-open in September, encouraging correspondence in the meantime.

It was later announced, in an Interview with Slughorn, the Hogwarts faculty would be working with the Board of Magical Education to "ensure the education and graduation" of the seniors who missed their final year.

Harry had wondered what that meant for him, but hadn't read anything about it since. He used a keyword charm to search the paper for 'Hogwarts', and jumped as someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"My my, if it isn't 'The Boy Who Lived'." A cloaked witch stepped in front of him. "Twice now, I believe! But of course, you wouldn't have survived the second time if it hadn't been for me!" The woman let out a croaky laugh, and stumbled into the chair opposite Harry. With a loud thump, she set a tall bottle of Goblin Rose on the table between them.

"Narcissa," said Harry uncertainly, slowly placing the Prophet on the table. "How have you been?"

"Excellent, Potter, just excellent. Our home is now our own again. And it's all thanks to you" She smiled wickedly and leaned forward on her elbows. "And I suppose I helped. I think you owe me a debt."

“I don't think I do, actually. I saved Mal-,” Harry caught himself, “-Draco.”  
  
“So now Draco owes you. You owe me and Draco owes you,” Narcissa cooed, “whatever will we do.”

“Right, well, I should probably head back. Long day tomorrow.”  
  
“No.” Narcissa pouted petulantly. “I want to talk to you. Have a drink.”

She waved her wand and conjured two wine glasses, vanishing Harry's pint with a look of disgust.

“I'm fine, thanks,” said Harry, annoyed, but made no move to stand up. “Talk about what?”

Narcissa poured him a drink anyway. The pink liquid bubbled enticingly.

“Are you always in such a hurry? You know, I sent you a letter, I don't know if you got it-”

“I got it.”

“Oh. Well, I thought you might like to stay with us for a while, then I heard recently you were staying at the pub and I thought-”  
  
“I don't.”  
  
“Sorry?”

“I don't want to stay with you. What are you up to?”

Narcissa sighed and sat back. “Your drink's getting cold. Honestly, Harry, it's not poison. I wouldn't poison you in the middle of Diagon Alley.”

She took a large drink from her own glass and watched Harry carefully. “They've taken Lucius.”

“Okay,” said Harry, raising his eyebrows. He knew what she meant. Four days ago Lucius had been carted off to Azkaban. Of course he had.

“I'm sorry?” he offered half-heartedly.

Narcissa tapped her fingers on the glass but didn't say anything. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead looked out at the pub. Harry wondered how many people were left – he couldn't see from his seat - and whether anyone would notice if Narcissa cursed him here and now.

Feeling a little daring, he took a sip from the wine. It was surprisingly warm, but he didn't choke.

“He wasn't all bad,” Narcissa broke the silence. “He wasn't a monster.”

Harry bit his tongue.

“He built Draco's first carriage, you know. He bought some flying snufflers and made little harnesses for them. Draco must have been only two or three, but he loved flying around in that little thing.”

“He killed people,” said Harry, shaking his head. “I'm sorry but, being a good dad-”

“He wasn't a good father,” Narcissa cut in. “He wasn't at all. But he tried. I'm sure he did. The Dark Lord changed him, Harry, you have to believe me. He wasn't born a killer. I never married a killer.”

“Have _you_ killed anyone?”

“I haven't,” Narcissa said firmly. “Have you?”

Harry felt his adrenaline wane.

“Voldemort,” he said.

“That's not what I meant.”

Harry folded the corner of the Prophet, running his finger along the edge.

“I don't know,” he said at last. “Maybe.”

Narcissa nodded. “No one blames you.”

“It's different though,” Harry argued. “It's different to Lucius.”

“Of course it is. Don't waste my wine.”

Harry took a drink and sighed. “Why are you here, Narcissa, really?”

“I want help with Lucius.”

“I don't want to help you.” Harry felt an unusual sensation at the back of his head as he said this, and a ringing in his chest not unlike Felix Felicis.

“Do we really want to continue with this injustice, with this corruption, Harry?” Narcissa leaned in towards him, her golden hair falling from her cloak.

“I suppose not,” said Harry, tying to think. “Well-”

“We don't. It won't stop with Death Eaters.” Narcissa leaned forward with a frantic look in her eyes. “What if they pull Draco's name out next? What if he doesn't get a trial?”

“Draco was a-”

“He was a child!”

Harry felt a tugging sensation at this, at his chest and at the little Felix voice in his head. He sighed.

“I suppose he was. Draco deserves a trial, at least.”

“Thank you,” Narcissa whispered. She stood up and took Harry's hand, her long, cool fingers delicate in his. “Come with me?”

“Uh, no.” The sensation pulled at him again. “Okay.”

Narcissa smiled, delighted, and lead him through the empty bar – there was so sign of Tom – and up the staircase to the inn rooms. Harry tripped on the last stair, and Narcissa grabbed him under the arm.

“Are you okay, Harry?”

“I think I'm drunk.”

Narcissa smiled. “Nonsense,” she said, leaning in close enough for Harry to feel her breath on his face. “You're fine.”

“Yeah, I'm ok,” said Harry with a little bewilderment.

“Good.” She steered Harry towards room 03, and cast a non-verbal spell to unlock it.

“You know, you're very small,” said Harry, regarding Narcissa “Smaller then Draco.”

Narcissa looked up at him with amused eyes. “Is that so?”

“Sorry.” Harry shook his head. “I don't know why I said that.”

Narcissa laughed and pulled him into the room. It was a small room, like Harry's. A part of Harry had expected something alarming – a skull above the bed or a stack of Dark Art's books on the desk. But it was just an empty Leaky Cauldron room. All that stood out was a large copper ring on the table. A doorknocker, Harry realized.

“Harry,” said Narcissa with a glance at the clock on the mantelpiece. “I need your help.”

“I know, I'm just not really sure how-”

“I need you to unlock Malfoy Manor,” said Narcissa in a hushed voice.

“Unlock-?”

“Shh.” She pressed a finger against Harry's lips, then guided him over to the table and picked up the doorknocker. “Hold this. You'll help me, won't you?”

The voice in his head told him to say yes. “I don't-”

Narcissa leaned in and kissed him then, gently, softly. “Please,” she breathed against his lips. He could taste the warm wine on her breath. He swallowed deeply.

“Okay.”

“Please say it.”

“I'll help you.”

“No,” said Narcissa, her lips moving against his. “Say, you'll come to Malfoy Manor. Say you'll help me there.”

“Uh. I'll help you at Malfoy Manor.”

Narcissa waited, then blinked, then stood back. Harry swallowed again as the warmth from her body left with her.

“I think you need to say it differently,” she said thoughtfully.

“Sorry?”

“Try, I want to go to Malfoy Manor.”

“Do I though?”

“You do.” Narcissa looked at the clock again.

“Okay,” said Harry. “I want to go to Malfoy Manor.”

At this, the doorknocker started to vibrate between his fingers.

Narcissa clapped her hands together, eyes wild with excitement. “Thank you, Harry,” she said, her voice echoing away as the room 03 went dark and Harry began to spin, his body contorting around the vibrating object in his hands.  
  
Harry felt unusually content, as though he'd been expecting this. He wasn't even surprised when his feet touched the ground and he stumbled, dizzy, into a strange, dark room.

He wasn't expecting to pass out though, and had a very brief moment of panic before the world went dark again and his face hit the hard wood floor with a thump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a very long time since I wrote anything outside of school, thank you to everyone who's been emailing or commenting to remind me to update! I've been rewriting each chapter, but I really struggled with this one. This chapter was a major catalyst, and my old version felt forced, especially the dialog. I've always struggled with this chapter.
> 
> Thank you for reading and please don't forget to comment!


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